


Miguel’s Big Secret

by papergardener



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Boyfriends, Coming Out, Family Fluff, Homosexuality, Hurt/Comfort, I think it's pretty obvious where this is going, M/M, miguel finally tells someone, referenced homophobia, supportive family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-17 21:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13667508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papergardener/pseuds/papergardener
Summary: Years later, Miguel finally decides to tell someone the truth of what happened on that Dia de los Muertos. But he doesn’t expect another secret to come out thanks to a bunch of eavesdropping spirits.





	1. Miguel's Confession

Even as the years passed, some things never changed.

“Ah, Miguelito! Where have you been? We were getting worried sick!”

“Sorry, Abuelita. I was just with Eliseo,” Miguel said sheepishly, nodding to the teenage boy next to him as they walked to the Rivera household. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

The two boys had raced back once they realized how dark and quiet it was, with the dark streets had been almost deserted of people.

“Buenas noches, Señora Rivera,” his friend said, giving a little wave of his hand, and seemed half-ready to duck for cover from a flying boot. “It’s my fault we’re late, we were visiting my abuela’s grave.”

Her face softened at that. “Ah, well that’s all right, then. And I don’t mind you going off, Miguel, but at least tell us! You know how much we worry, especially tonight.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Miguel said, and did feel guilty. It was quite late, most of his family was probably already asleep. It didn’t help that they always worried about him on Dia de los Muertos, ever since the time he had vanished before reappearing the next morning with a strange guitar in his hand and a song on his lips.

When they reached her, she immediately reached up and took Miguel's face in her wrinkled hands. He had to lean down so she could kiss his forehead and pat his dimpled cheek. “We don’t want you going off and disappearing again, eh?"

He rolled his eyes. “That was once! And it was years ago. I’m not a little kid anymore.” It was true: he was no longer the scrawny trouble-maker he had been, but a young man of nineteen. If, perhaps, he still got into the occasional bouts of trouble.

She waved off his words. “Just don’t stay out too late. And don’t go wandering off anymore tonight.”

“Yes, abuelita,” he said, smiling as she walked back inside to the dark house.

He waited for her footsteps to slowly fade before he turned to Eliseo. Even in the dark he could see his smile, his soft dark hair gleaming in the light of the waning moon.

“Want to stay out a little longer?” Miguel asked. “I was going to spend some time at our ofrenda, want to join me?”

“Sure.” He stayed close to his side as they walked. “Your family will never let you forget that night, huh?” Eliseo said with a chuckle.

Miguel huffed, kicking out and scattering faded marigold petals. “Ugh, no kidding. They still act like I’m some little kid.”

“Eh, it just means they care, right?”

Miguel shrugged, but didn’t argue. It had become an infamous story amongst his family, not to mention the rest of the town. He said that he had simply fallen asleep in the cemetery until morning, which seemed close enough to the truth to not feel too guilty for lying to them. The only living person he had ever told the truth was his Mamá Coco, but she was no longer with them, and so it was a secret he held close to his heart.

As they walked into the ofrenda, he wondered if his Mamá Coco was still around that night, or if all the spirits would have already gone back to the Land of the Dead. Sometimes he wondered what they were doing… his Papá Héctor and Mamá Imelda, his uncles and aunts and rest of his family. Hopefully they had made their peace with each other and Héctor could be with the rest of his family. Sometimes Miguel would sing and play for his family as they worked in the workshop, and would imagine Héctor doing the same, singing and playing amidst the skeletons and spirits.

Once inside the room, Miguel made sure there was no one around before he carefully closed the door, leaving it a little in case spirits had to pass through. Others would call it superstitious, but Miguel knew too well to wave it off as nonsense. The little room was warm and comforting, brighter than usual. For a moment he simply watched Eliseo, dark and solid amidst the flickering candles and orange marigolds as he gazed at the Rivera family photos and offerings.

“You really have got a wonderful family,” Eliseo said wistfully. Miguel felt a pang in his heart, knowing that Eliseo’s family life was less than ideal, with a brutal, overpowering father and two older brothers that loved to make his life hell. At first he had been unaccustomed to the love of Miguel’s familia, but had fallen in love with it all the same. And for all the hardships he had been through, Eliseo had a good heart.

Miguel took a deep breath and told himself that he could trust him. It was time.

“Hey, Eliseo? There’s… well, there’s something I want to tell you. A, uh, a secret that I’ve been holding onto. It’s going to sound crazy…”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Ehh, it’s not bad, just… insane.” He twisted his fingers anxiously. It sounded absurd, like a young kid’s dream, or a fantasy. But he knew in his heart that it had happened.

“You know that Dia de los Muertos when I disappeared? And said I spent the night at the cemetery? Well, that’s not exactly the truth. And what I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell anyone. I mean nobody!”

“All right, I promise,” he said with a nervous little chuckle. Miguel looked into his eyes and felt a smile creep onto his face.

“You see, that night… I really did disappear.”


	2. The Other Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out that Miguel's private moment has an audience.

“Héctor! Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you!”  
   
Héctor jumped a little at the sharp voice of Imelda as she hurried over to him, hitching her skirt as she made her way through the still-festive cemetery.  
   
“Why? What’s wrong?” he said, moving to meet her. “Is it almost morning?”  
   
“No, no, not even close. It’s Miguel. Come on!” she grabbed his arm and he stumbled after her, catching his hat before it fell off.  
   
“Miguel? Is he all right?”  
   
“Fine, fine, but he’s talking about you. And where were you? Off running around, typical…”  
   
Héctor rolled his eyes but didn’t argue or resist as his wife pulled him to the Rivera home. He nodded at passing spirits who grinned back, laughing a little as Imelda hurried him along through the dark streets. When they arrive, they quietly slipped through the open door to the ofrenda room to see the place crowded with faintly glowing spirits. Héctor found a space beside Coco, putting a hand on her shoulder as he looked at Miguel talking with another teenage boy he didn't recognize.

Coco smiled up at him, stretching up and whispering, “This is the first I've heard that you two met in a phone booth.”  
  
Héctor grinned and whispered back, “Guess we both forgot to mention that little detail.”  
  
He nearly remarked that on meeting Miguel his eyes had literally fallen out of his head, but decided against it, choosing instead to listen as Miguel continued the familiar story.  
   
“… we got help from Frida Kahlo to sneak backstage. Once we got there we actually found de la Cruz easy enough, and then my Mamá Imelda? She smacks him with her boot, shouting ‘that’s for murdering the love of my life!’”  
   
Héctor grinned at Miguel’s impression of her, one hand holding aloft an invisible boot while the other boy laughed.  
   
“Ay, it’s been years but I can still hear her voice perfectly,” Miguel said, laughing himself as he lowered his arm. “So de la Cruz is shocked, you know? And my Papá Héctor, he and I jump out and that cabrón takes off running.”  
   
Imelda leaned against Héctor and whispered, “He really is so proud of you.” He smiled at her, and then looked fondly at his great-great-grandson.  
  
“… then my Mamá Imelda starts singing, right on stage. I push a guitar into Héctor’s hands and drag over a mike so she can hear him, and you should have seen her face!”  
  
“I can imagine!” the boy said with a laugh.  
  
“Psst… who’s the other kid?” Héctor muttered to Imelda.  
   
“A friend of his. I think Miguel mentioned him last year, too. Eliseo is his name.”  
   
“Huh… must be a good friend,” he said, looking at him curiously and thinking he would have to be quite a good friend if Miguel trusted him enough to share this secret.  
   
They all listened as Miguel finished up the story, his excitement fading as he came to the end, almost looking pained as he recalled how Héctor had grown too weak to even stand, how the petal had been pushed onto him at the last moment, just as the sun was rising.  
   
“When I woke up, I was back here and it was morning. I ran straight to my Mamá Coco and sang for her, helped her remember her father. Because of her, we were able to recover his old letters and could prove that he wrote those songs. That's the real story about how I found out that Héctor was my great-great-grandfather, although I couldn't tell everyone, obviously."  
   
There was silence as Miguel watched the other boy. “So, uh… that’s it.”  
   
Eliseo bit his lip, holding his arms against himself. “It… sounds like an amazing dream.”  
   
“It wasn’t a dream!" Miguel said sharply. "It really happened. I know it sounds crazy, but it was real.”  
   
“Ah, Miguel…” Eliseo said, not quite looking at him. “Maybe you hit your head or something? Like one of those coma dreams on a telenova.”  
   
“This wasn’t like that! I’m telling the truth. That night, I left this world and went to the Land of the Dead.”  
   
“Come on? Do you hear yourself? Going to a land full of skeletons and just.. all of it! It’s crazy. And you were just a kid. I mean, I had a pretty active imagination as a kid, too.”  
   
Héctor glared at the other boy and muttered, “It weren’t no dream, kid.” He didn’t care whether or not he could hear him, he didn’t like the idea of Miguel’s big secret being dismissed like that. Of course, it did sound ridiculous… but it really was the truth.  
  
Miguel scowled and turned away. “You don’t believe me.”  
   
“It’s…. a good story?” Eliseo said. “And it would be pretty amazing to meet your Papá Héctor. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting it to be real. It’s just...”  
  
“Ugh, yeah, I know,” Miguel said, frowning at the floor. “I get it. It sounds stupid. Like I just made it up, but I… ah, just forget it. It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not like I’ll ever be able to prove it was real. Not like it changes anything.”  
  
“Hey come on, it’s not that bad. I liked it," Eliseo said with a tentative grin. "And isn’t that why we do all this every year? The trail of marigolds to lead the spirits home and all that? Even if it’s not true, it’s a comforting thought; that should count for something. Even if it's all nonsense, I like to think my abuela really is still… somewhere. And that she’s ok.”  
  
Miguel looked to the ofrenda, his head tilted up towards the uppermost photo, taped and worn. “You know, this might sound stupid, but I sometimes wonder about…” he shook his head, then turned to Eliseo. “I never told you this, but Héctor… he was the first person who was ever truly proud of me for being me. He supported me when no one else did. Even if it really was all just a dream, I’ve always felt like he’s there for me, you know? No matter what. And sometimes I wonder… if he knew the truth about me… would he hate me too? Or be disgusted.”  
  
There was a stunned silence amongst the spirits, until Héctor blurted out, “What?”  
  
Héctor couldn’t understand why Miguel would ever, ever think that, and became vaguely aware of the other spirits muttering similar confusion.  
  
Eliseo, though, seemed to understand better than any of them. He stepped closer and his voice fell to a whisper. “Because of…?”  
   
Miguel shrugged in response, his head low on his narrow shoulders.  
   
Imelda whispered at his shoulder, “What is he talking about?”  
   
Héctor just shook his head as Miguel’s friend cast a look around the room as if making sure it really was empty. The half-dozen spirits all seemed to hold their breath as his eyes skated over them. Once sure that they were alone, Eliseo gently took Miguel’s hand and interwove their fingers.  
   
“It’ll be allright, mi amor.”  
   
There was a long, long pause, gears turning in all their heads.  
   
_Oh._  
   
Héctor felt a smile stretch across his face at the dawning realization, but Coco was the first to speak.  
   
“Awww… our Miguel’s in love!” she said, bringing her hands to her cheeks.  
  
“Eh?” Papá Julio said nervously. “W-wait, I think we might have heard that wrong...”  
   
But Héctor knew what he had heard, and as he looked at the two boys with fresh eyes, he saw how obvious it was. How they stood so close, and how tenderly they looked at each other. Then he understood they were intruding on a very private moment. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one.  
   
“All right, everyone out!” Imelda shouted suddenly, making them all jump. “Come on, vámonos!”  
   
Héctor glanced at the boys, almost surprised they hadn’t heard or noticed any of the commotion, still not used to the whole ‘being invisible’ thing. But Miguel only leaned away, pulling his hand back as they talked softly to each other. Héctor noticed with a frown how Miguel cradled his hand to his chest, as if embarrassed to be seen holding hands with his boyfriend. Miguel needed reassurance that it was ok, but there was nothing he could do.  
   
He lingered back as Imelda shepherded the spirits through the door, following close behind her with one last glance at the two boys. Then Imelda turned and faced him.  
   
“Not you. You stay,” she said firmly, jabbing a finger at him.  
   
“What?” Héctor said.  
   
“And do something! Miguel needs you.”  
   
“Me? What can I do?”  
   
“ _I don’t know_ ,” she said, throwing her hand up. “But think of something!”  
   
With that, she left and Héctor gawped after her. Then he gripped his head in his arms and tried not to scream because just what on earth he was supposed to do? He couldn’t do anything! He turned toward Miguel, almost glad he couldn’t hear him.  
   
“Ah, come on, Miguel! What are you thinking? Of course I wouldn’t care about this. You’ve literally seen me in a dress!” He paused, thought about it, and then said, “Twice! You really think I would… I mean, just… auugh!”  
   
Miguel’s low voice pierced through his frustration, making him pause.  
   
“What if they don’t want me in the family anymore?”  
   
Héctor’s shoulders dropped, shutting his eyes shut with a sigh.  
   
“Ay, ay, Miguel,” Héctor said softly, turning towards them. “Why would you think we wouldn’t still love you?”  
  
He wished there was some way to reach him, to be able to speak to him again. Eliseo moved towards him, and Héctor eyed suspiciously, hoping he wouldn’t say anything else stupid.  
  
“Your family loves you,” Eliseo said, putting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Yes! Good!” Héctor said excitedly, waving his hands. “Listen to the kid!”  
   
But Miguel just shook his head. “I know they say that, but… but what if they find out and change their mind? I mean, when I was a kid and obsessed with that awful de la Cruz, I thought they might disown me if they found out I loved music. And I wasn’t far off!”  
   
“You’re exaggerating,” Eliseo said.  
   
“Augh, you weren’t there!” Miguel said sharply. “You didn’t see them. My abuelita destroyed my guitar, something I had been so proud of, worked so hard on, but they didn’t care at all. If they were that angry when they found out I love music, what are they going to do when they find out I love... you?"  
   
Miguel stood there, glaring at him and breathing hard, but also looking like he might break into tears at any moment.  
  
Immediately Héctor wanted to try and argue, to say that of course his family would still love him, but then… was it true? He hesitated at the thought. What would his family think? Héctor didn’t know his living family as well as he would have liked, only what Coco had told him. But he couldn’t imagine any of their family hating a sweet kid like Miguel.  
   
“I… I don’t know,” Eliseo said heavily, looking away. “I know that when my family finds out… I’ll be out of my home. I’ll lose everything. That’s why I’ve been saving up so much so I can hopefully get enough to go to Guadalajara or Mexico City, where I hope it’ll be safer. But that’s just me. Maybe… maybe your family would understand.”  
  
Miguel took a sharp intake of breath, a look of pain flashing on his face. He stepped forward, reaching out a hand towards Eliseo without touching him, as if afraid he would flinch away.  
  
“Wait, no, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. I know you… I know I should be thankful. And I am. I love my family. I just… I can’t lose them. Not again. Eliseo, I didn’t mean to—“  
  
“It’s fine,” Eliseo murmured.  
  
The two boys fell into silence, both seeming lost in thought.  
  
Héctor also went quiet, not that it made any difference. But he couldn’t ignore the ripple of fear through his bones, a cold sickening wave as he remembered others like Miguel and Eliseo. There had been a man he’d befriended years and years past, another spirit unable to cross the Bridge. He had been one of the infamous Forty-One, those men who had been arrested and imprisoned for the crime of dancing together and cross-dressing. That man’s own family had forsaken him, abandoned him for who he was. And it wasn’t just him who had suffered. Héctor had ended up making friends with other men and women who loved the wrong person and were punished for it. Arrested, abandoned, even murdered.  
  
He straightened and looked at Miguel, realizing that this meant his life would be so much harder. Miguel might suffer terribly for who he loved. And Héctor was powerless to help. All he could do was support him and continue to love him. Even if Miguel wouldn’t know.  
  
“I know you can't hear me,” he said softly. “But know that I’m here for you. And that I’ll always be proud of you, mijo.”  
   
He reached out and put a bony hand on Miguel’s shoulder, and, at the touch, Miguel jumped a foot in the air with a shout.  
   
“Ahh!”  
   
Miguel spun around, making both Héctor and Eliseo leap back in shock. The seconds ticked by as they all stared, each more shocked than the other. Then Miguel sighed, rolling his eyes at Eliseo.  
   
“Ay… don’t scare me like that!”  
   
“What are you talking about?” Eliseo said, stunned. “You just yelled out of nowhere!”  
   
“Huh? But you… I thought I felt…” Miguel’s voice drifted away as he put a hand on his left shoulder.  
   
Héctor stared at his own hand. It shouldn’t have been possible. Had he...?  
   
Miguel slowly lifted his eyes and looked around at the small room, and for the briefest moment, he thought Miguel could see him. But Miguel just looked away, his hand dropping to his side.  
   
“Never mind. I… I must have imagined it.”  
   
Héctor felt his non-existent heart twinge. He couldn’t reach him. Or perhaps worse… Miguel didn’t want to be reached. It was like being forgotten all over again.  
   
There was a faint movement from the corner and he saw Eliseo step towards Miguel, glancing over to the empty part of the room where Héctor stood, and seemed to be thinking.  
   
Héctor glared at him, pointlessly trying to catch his eye as he gestured wildly towards Miguel, trying to silently scream, _your boyfriend clearly needs help, and what are you doing about it, huh? Do something, muchacho!_  
   
Unfortunately, the boy had no idea that Héctor was even there. Fortunately, though, he got the message anyway.  
   
Eliseo stepped a bit closer to Miguel. “You know… it’s still Dia de Muertos. Maybe…”  
   
“What?” Miguel asked skeptically, giving him a halfhearted glare.  
   
“I mean, what if…” Again he paused, reconsidered. “If your Papá Héctor was here, what would you say?”  
   
“Huh?”  
   
Eliseo nodded toward the candles and photos. “Don’t you ever talk to them? You know, in case their spirits made it back home today? Just earlier I told you how I used to talk to my abuela after she passed away, hoping she might be listening. It kept her close, you know?”  
   
Miguel hesitated. Héctor thought for a terrible moment that he’d brush it off as another superstition. But Miguel was quiet as he looked towards the altar, all aglow with candles and bright with marigolds. Then he bowed his head and gingerly felt his shoulder, as if he could still feel Héctor’s bony hand reaching out to him.  
   
“I’m here, mijo,” Héctor whispered from behind him, a world apart even as they stood so close. “I’m here with you.”  
   
Miguel looked up at the ofrenda, at Héctor’s smiling photo with his family.  
   
"If he was here," Miguel said cautiously, then, strangely, he turned around and looked into the empty room, as if he could sense his presence.  
   
"If he was here," he said again in a stronger voice, "I'd tell him... That I miss him. That I hope he’s happy and he’s with his family. And how proud I am that he’s my great-great-grandfather. And I hope… he’s still proud of me.”  
   
Héctor watched his great-great-grandson and felt his heart ache.  
   
“I’m sure he’d be proud of you,” Eliseo said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Miguel, I’ve met your family, I know they love you. I know it! And, even if they found out, I’m sure they’d be ok, given a little time.”  
   
Miguel turned towards him, meeting his gaze as Eliseo put a hand on each shoulder and ducked his head closer.  
   
“And if your Papá Héctor were here, I’m sure he’d be telling you the same thing: that he’s proud of you. Because of course he’d be proud of you, he’d be crazy not to!”  
   
Miguel laughed. “But he is crazy.”  
   
“Shush, I’m trying to comfort you,” Eliseo said, pressing a finger against his lips so Miguel leaned back with a laugh. Héctor smiled at the sound, the cold tension fading.  
   
“I’m serious, though,” Eliseo said, and there was a bittersweet tone in his words. “Miguel, you have an amazing family. You… you’re so lucky to have them.”  
   
“Eliseo…” Miguel said softly.  
   
But the other boy shook his head. “No, don’t do that. And hey, maybe you’re right! Maybe I’ve still got my abuela out there too, you know? She didn’t know about me, but I like to think that if I told her I had found someone I loved and who made me happy… I think she’d be ok with that.”  
   
“I’m sure she’d be ok, your abuela. And no matter what, you’re not alone. Cause you’ve got me.”  
   
They both smiled and then Miguel stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace, both of them holding on to the other amidst the soft golden glow. Héctor watched with a smile, knowing that at least they had each other. Then he glanced to the door, thinking he should maybe give them some privacy. But the next words made him pause.  
  
Still holding each other, Eliseo murmured against Miguel’s shoulder, “hey… think your Papá Héctor would like me?”  
  
Miguel chuckled as they broke away, each one still grinning.  
  
“I bet he would.” Miguel slipped his hand into Eliseo’s. “I guess if he was here, I’d want to introduce you. I’d say, ‘Hi Papá Héctor! This is my boyfriend… surprise!’”  
  
Eliseo laughed. Both boys stared into what must have only looked like empty space, not knowing how close they were to the truth of it.  
  
“Ay, Dios mio,” Miguel muttered with a sudden look of horror. “What if they’re all here?”  
  
Eliseo broke out in laughter at Miguel’s terrified face as he peered around the room, perhaps imagining his entire deceased family watching him.  
  
“Hey! Maybe my abuela’s here, too!” Eliseo said with a dawning looking of wonder.  
  
“Yeah, maybe!” Miguel said, eyes lighting up at the thought. Then his face softened, and in a lower voice he went on. “You know, I think she would be happy for you. And I think that Héctor would be ok with me. With us. And… and maybe you are right, and it doesn't really matter. Maybe it really was all just a strange dream. Just a fantasy in my head.”  
  
“Ehhh, I don’t know…” Eliseo said with a shrug. “There’s many strange things in this world. Maybe it really did happen. How else could you have known all that you do about your Papá Héctor? Stranger things have happened, I’m sure.”  
  
“So… maybe I’m not completely insane?” Miguel asked with a raised eyebrow.  
   
“Oh, you are crazy,” he said, then grinned. “But only un poco.”  
   
Miguel laughed at that, then looked down at their intertwined hands. “Un poco loco, eh?”  
   
He stepped across the room, picked up the old guitar and sank down against an open space of wall. Eliseo sat down beside him, pulling up his knees as Miguel plucked at a few strings. Then he played a cord that was instantly recognizable to Héctor, but different… slower, like a ballad. Miguel gazed at Eliseo who smiled back, resting his head on his knees as he listened.  
   
“You ask me what color is the sky… ay, mi amor, mi amor,” Miguel sang softly, his voice low and sweet.  
   
Amazing, Héctor thought. It was a song Héctor had written for Imelda almost a century ago, a song written for the love of his life. Now Miguel was singing it to his own love, making it his own song. Pride wasn’t a strong enough word for what he felt.  
   
Héctor decided that they probably wouldn’t mind too much if he stayed a bit longer. So he sat down against the opposite wall and enjoyed what time they had together. There was a movement at the door as Imelda peaked her head in, looking at him with an eyebrow raised in question. He beckoned towards her, smiling as she slowly entered and watched the two young men sitting against each other as the white guitar gleamed in the candlelight.  
   
“I thought I heard our song… is everything all right, then?” she asked, sitting down beside him.  
   
Héctor put an arm around her as she leaned on his shoulder. “He’ll be ok. They both will be.”  
   
Together they listened to their great-great-grandson play into the night, beside someone he loved and who loved him in return.  
   
Héctor was so happy for him. And so, so proud.  
   
_“I'll count it as a blessing_  
_That I'm only un poco loco…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Héctor would absolutely be supportive of Miguel, I have so many headcanons about this (which actually comes up in a significant way in my next long fic)
> 
> One thing I mentioned that people might find odd is associating cross-dressing with homosexuality, but, actually, the two things are connected. And a lot of that is because of the infamous Dance of the Forty-One in 1901, when 41 men were arrested and convicted for cross-dressing.  
> To this day, the number ‘41’ (and 42, for related reasons) is taboo in Mexico because of it’s association with homosexuality.  
> And despite recent progress, there is incredible discrimination towards gay men, so these poor boys would have good reason to worry. Fair warning though- this is all from the perspective of a non-Mexican girl, who's just trying her best with the resources available, so take it with a grain of salt.  
> But the main point is that Héctor will always love Miguel and his family.  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
